


New Orleans' Skies

by Sifshoney



Category: American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Character, Love Confessions, mentions of cordelia - Freeform, mentions of the axeman, mentions of young fiona and myrtle and their past, set after the death of the witchhunters, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23108380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sifshoney/pseuds/Sifshoney
Summary: After the death of the witch hunters Myrtle falls into despair, thinking that she has lost Fiona for good, after all those years.But does Fiona think the same?All this below the skies of New Orleans.
Relationships: Fiona Goode/Myrtle Snow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	New Orleans' Skies

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small Myrona fic I wrote.  
> I advice you to read it while listening  
> to Wait by NF or Iris by Goo Goo Doll.  
> I hope you'll enjoy it. :)

That day the skies of New Orleans were pouring incessantly, almost as if they intended to mirror Myrtle's eyes.   
The redhead witch was lying on the bed, shaken by her own pain, a hand reaching sometimes to catch her tears and prevent them from wetting her chin.

The Robichaux's Academy was quiet, and one would even say calm, without knowing the endless turmoil of the women living there.   
That calmness was surely caused by Fiona's absence, and while Myrtle would have sworn otherwise in front of anyone else, _she hated it._  
Fiona's absence was everything she longed and feared, everything she needed and yet despised. She knew that the years had passed.

_She knew that she shouldn't care._

But the thought of Fiona in that man's arms, whoever he was, was sickening and heart wrenching at the same time.

She felt her heart literally sink, her body numbing and her stomach revolting, and she could hear Fiona's laughter somewhere,   
almost as if her pain was entertaining for the wicked witch who had caused this endless pain.

_Wicked bitch._

And there she was, Myrtle Snow.  
The Head of the Council.  
The protector of truth.  
The mother of Cordelia Goode.  
And at the end, just Myrtle.

Drowning in her own pain, just like she had all these years.

Did Fiona remember?  
The times they kissed, they held each other, the times they stayed up all night? _The times they looked at each other and could see the world?_  
Maybe she didn't. Maybe she had just been a game of young Fiona to further her own roots as the supreme,   
or maybe she had just been nothing to her.  
Myrtle didn't know and it was killing her.  
She was now 60 years old, and yet she felt the same pain she felt when she was 20. She had given anything to the Coven, to Fiona.  
She did not know what else she could give, if there was anything left of her that could be useful.  
Fiona had taken it all, scratching the bottom with cat-like claws. Ironic, since she used to make fun of Myrtle for her love of felines.

Cordelia had been worried for her that morning, mumbling words like "you're so pale, Auntie Myrtle".  
Pale.  
Fiona even managed to suck colour dry from her skin.  
The Myrtle that was now lying on the bed was clutching at the blankets, muffling her sobs with the pillow.

She couldn't let anyone know.

Being without dignity in private was one thing, in public it was a totally different one, and for now in the coven she still had to hold her title. _  
Her name._  
For Delia she could be Auntie Myrtle, and for Fiona she could be "Myrt" but in the coven she had to be Myrtle Snow.  
And yet she wished she could go back to being just Myrtle.  
Just a woman, in her own bed. Preferably with Fiona by her side.  
Even if it was to mock her, or fight.  
She would have taken anything, for another day like that.  
For another time in which it was just the _two of them._

Myrtle set up on the edge of the bed, still shaking due to her violent breakdown. She still intended to cry, but she was also thirsty,   
and if she did not want the coven to die with her she had to live.  
With trembling hands, she reached out for an empty glass and a bottle of whiskey on the table close by.  
The flavour was inebriating, and reminded her of the taste on Fiona's lips. The bitch lived on that stuff.  
And Myrtle lived best on her lips, so it only seemed reasonable to drink more. Not so much as to get drunk,   
just as much was needed to remember.

Suddenly, the sound of a door closing with force spread throughout the whole house, making Myrtle drop the glass on the floor,   
shatters of glass everywhere.

It wouldn't go unheard. It couldn't.

Before Myrtle could even start to lean and take the shards, Fiona had opened the door abruptly, closing it right after stepping inside.  
"What is it, huh? Need a little hand, Myrt?"  
She was smirking, and yet Myrtle couldn't catch the usual bitterness in her tone when she talked to her.  
"You scared me" mumbled Myrtle, turning to finally lean and catch the pieces of glass constellating the floor.  
"I know, Myrt. I am sorry".  
Myrt looked at her, almost in wonder.  
Fiona Goode didn't apologize. Ever.  
Unless she did want something.

"Do you need anything, Fiona? I mean, I don't think you have come here just to help me with a broken glass.   
If you need something just spit it out"  
"Are you trying to imply something? If I am not wrong I managed to get rid of the witch hunters without you"  
"Oh yes Fiona, I am sorry I forgot such an important thing that happened when I was little more than dead", spat Myrtle,   
finally managing to recompose with her powers the glass.

"No Myrtle, I… I am sorry, really sorry".  
Fiona's voice was insisting, and for once, honest, so much that Myrtle couldn't help but just nod.  
And break down again, but she was no glass.  
She couldn't fix herself with so much as a snap of her fingers.  
Fiona had already reached her side, wiping her tears away quickly and holding her firmly against her body.  
"Wha-"  
"Shh, Myrt… I want you now, don't push me away"

Myrtle just couldn't decide if this was a sick dream, or if she had really heard those words,   
but for now she settled to inhaling the scent of cigarettes and whiskey, hiding her face on the crook of Fiona's neck.  
Fiona was the first to let go, and she looked in Myrtle's eyes, looking downward to settle her gaze on her lips.  
"I've been waiting so much to do this" she said, before crushing her lips into Myrtle's instantly tasting her essence,   
what made her so… _her Myrtle_.  
She deepened the kiss, so much that without noticing, she had climbed on Myrtle, lying her body on hers.

"Fiona, isn't he going to-"  
"I killed him".

Those words had left the blonde witch's lips almost harshly, as if she was annoyed of the interruption.  
"You killed him?! Are you crazy?"  
"No, I am just deeply, madly in love with you, and I don't want anyone or anything coming against us. Ever again, not again".

Myrtle was looking for any sign of dishonesty from her, and while she desperately wanted to care for what happened to the man,   
she couldn't find a lie in Fiona's iris, or any fucks to give for the man that had just been slaughtered.  
She could just inhale Fiona's scent and lose herself in her eyes.

"I... why now? Is it because you are dying?"  
"No, it's because I want to live, and the only way I have found I can live is by breathing your life. Living it with you. I need you Myrtle, please…"  
This time the interruption was sudden, and yet much more appreciated. Myrtle's tongue continued dancing with Fiona's,   
exploring again her mouth.   
She couldn't have enough of it.  
_She couldn't have enough of her._  
Fiona smiled and gave in.  
They were both at home.

That night the skies of New Orleans were clear of any cloud, almost as if they intended to mirror Myrtle's soul.   
The redhead witch was lying on the bed, held tightly by the love of her life, a hand reaching sometimes to brush her own hair away from her face.   
She smiled.


End file.
